


The Endless Trees

by Carlandrea



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: I love this spooky rave forest so much, It can be read as platonic if you want, Legolas is a weird dude, M/M, Mirkwood, but they don't smooch, is a very spooky place, like hand-holding and whatnot, like there are shippy undertones for sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29206767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carlandrea/pseuds/Carlandrea
Summary: "And, unbidden, he remembered the stories of the wood-elves, who were not to be trusted, not because they were evil, exactly, but because they lived their lives in a haze of enchantment and wine, flitting from one tree to the next, fighting and fleeing on their whims alone, as darkness poisoned their hearts.Legolas was flighty and strange, and often did not seem to understand the weight of his ills, but Gimli trusted him with his life. Legolas would not abandon him to the darkness of his forest."Mirkwood is still dangerous, and one should not be left alone within it.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf, L - Relationship
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44
Collections: The Two Thousand Fics on AO3 Gigolas Challenge





	The Endless Trees

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [mistrali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistrali/pseuds/mistrali) in the [2000GigolasFics](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2000GigolasFics) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Legolas/Gimli in Mirkwood.

The path through Mirkwood was long and winding, and the trees closed in on either side. Faint birdsong drifted through the twisted trees.  
Legolas looked on the verge of tears, whether they were of relief or sorrow, Gimli could not tell.  
“I truly feared,” said Legolas, “I truly feared I would not recognize the song of my forest.”  
“I would not,” said Gimli, “ have you lose your home before you had ever returned.”  
“It is hidden,” said Legolas, “muffled by crashing waves and gulls, but it is there. I am home, at least for now.”  
Gimli smiled. “I am glad you love this wood. Do not expect me to”  
Legolas only smiled. 

A cold, low fog seeped through the trees, and the light seemed to come from within it rather than the sun, silhouetting the twisted trees against its blue glow. Thorn-bushes crawled across leafless dark branches.  
“The trees here may bear fruit,” said Legolas, “next year, or the year after. They have not borne fruit in many years.” 

“Look,” said Legolas, several steps ahead. “This one has fruit already”  
Gimli smiled. “So it does, my friend.”  
The light in Legolas’s eyes was strange, thought Gimli. He had looked almost like this in Fangorn, alive and bright and beautiful, beautiful in the same way as mossy branches and wildflowers, and the forest seemed to come to life around him.  
Here, though, his awe was replaced with familiarity. He was not meeting legends of his people, but reuniting with old friends.  
“You should not eat it,” said Legolas, taking a bite from an apple. “It has drawn cursed water from the river”  
“You are eating it as we speak”  
“Some of the curses,” said Legolas, gnawing through the core, “We laid, and others we have learned to withstand- it is part of living here” 

Legolas was not difficult to follow, for all his leaping and prancing ahead, for he always circled back, babbling like a songbird in his own tongues, as if he had forgotten that gimli did not speak them.  
Legolas’s touch was always fleeting and gentle- he would brush his hand through Gimli’s hair, or place it, for a moment, on his shoulder, and then he was gone again. 

Legolas swept off into the fog once more, and his song faded into the distance, leaving Gimli alone in the cold and dark. The forest shifted. The birdsong ceased. 

The path was gone. 

In that moment, Gimli remembered every story his father and uncles had told him of the forest- of the deadly spiders, of the disappearing path, and the cursed river, and terror filled his heart, because Legolas could be in danger.  
But Legolas was not the one standing, alone, where only moments ago a path had snaked through the forest. 

And, unbidden, he remembered the stories of the wood-elves, who were not to be trusted, not because they were evil, exactly, but because they lived their lives in a haze of enchantment and wine, flitting from one tree to the next, fighting and fleeing on their whims alone, as darkness poisoned their hearts.  
Legolas was flighty and strange, and often did not seem to understand the weight of his ills, but Gimli trusted him with his life. Legolas would not abandon him to the darkness of his forest.  
The Legolas he knew would not leave him, but the light in his eyes had been queer, and the forest was riddled with strange magic. 

Perhaps it was not the wood-elves that were untrustworthy. Perhaps it was their forest. Legolas had belonged to Mirkwood first, after all, and perhaps it had claimed him once again. 

The shifting trees were entrancing. Where had he come from? Where was he going? 

Swiftly, a dream began to fade from his mind. He tried to remember the name or face of his companion, but could not. There had been great cities in his dream, and terrible battles, love and grief and fear, but all he could remember was vague impressions- snippets of songs and colors.  
It had been a vision, he realized, induced by the lonesome terror of the endless trees. The mist stretched on forever. It was all there was, and all there would be. It would be foolish to think otherwise.  
The last impressions of his dream began to slip from his mind, and Gimli wandered, dazed, through the trees.

His sense of time faded, as the trees did not change. He felt no hunger or thirst, and his limbs did not ache from walking. It did not occur to him to find this strange. 

It seemed to be growing colder, and it seemed to be growing darker, as the mist settled into his bones. His vision clouded.  
He was cold. He longed to sleep. 

If he slept, the roots would consume him, and he would not wake.  
He found he could not bring himself to care.  
His eyes began to close. 

A long wail pierced the trees

Gimli’s eyes snapped open. The wail sounded again, higher and louder. There was something, some forest-creature, tearing through the trees, something furious, and scared.

The cry sounded again, closer this time. Gimli tried to run. His feet did not move. He stood, petrified, rooted to the ground. The forest shook with fear and rage.  
It was closing in around him.  
The creature was crying his name. 

Gimli couldn’t think. He forced his foot forward, and stumbled into a halting run. 

For a moment, Gimli saw a figure flitting through the trees, and then it saw him, and before he could blink, it shot towards him, and its long arms closed around him, pulling him into a vice-like embrace. 

“Gimli, my dear Gimli” whispered the forest-creature. “I feared i had lost you”  
Gimli’s eyes began to close once again. The desperation faded from the air, and he felt warm and safe, clutched against a humming breast. 

The forest-creature was whispering a lullaby. 

Gimli sank into his arms. 

\--- 

“Gimli? Gimli, I saw you stir”  
Slowly, Gimli opened his eyes. A worried wood-elf was leaning over him, his long, unbound hair brushing against Gimli’s neck and arm.  
“Legolas?”  
Legolas nodded, and his eyes filled with tears. 

Slowly, Gimli’s strength began to return. Legolas was at his side, singing softly, and he held him during the cold night, his eyes fixed eerily towards the sky. 

“Legolas,” asked Gimli the next day, “Do you know what happened?”  
Legolas paused. He did not meet Gimli’s eyes. “I left you,” he said. “I did not mean to stray far, but the trees swept me away, and when I returned you were gone.”  
“I remember that”  
“The guards at this outpost told me that the path had been closed during a battle. I thought it was safe.”  
Gimli considered that. “That was one of your defenses?”  
“It was.”  
“So then the stories I have been told of your forest are nor entirely without merit.”  
“They are not,” said Legolas, “I should not have left you behind.”  
“And,“ said Gimli, as memories flooded back “if you are any indication, neither are our stories of your people.”  
Legolas flinched. 

“You left me to the mercy of your forest. You pranced into the forest, and you did not look back to see if I was safe. Your home is dangerous, Legolas, and you did not realise.”  
Legolas was silent.  
“And yet, you found me,” said Gimli. “I heard you screeching my name, and I was afraid, because I did not know you were my friend, but I knew from your cries that you would tear the forest apart until you found me.”

“I am sorry. I-”  
“I do not know how to feel. I am angry, and shaken, but I am not dead, because you were there.”  
“I should not have left you behind.”  
“You should not,” said Gimli, “But I love you, and I do not wish to be angry with you for long.”  
“It is not that simple.”  
“It is not.” Gimli took one of Legolas’s cold, thin hands in two of his own. “But perhaps it can be. I am tired, Legolas, and you have been my comfort.” 

“When we continue our journey,” said Gimli, “We shall walk hand in hand, so that we are not separated.”  
Legolas clasped his other hand onto Gimli’s. “We will.”


End file.
